


the more she sings cuckoo, cuckoo

by wearethewitches



Series: broomsticks, moon-shaped staves and ink from a non-magical parlour [2]
Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst, Astrology, Autism Spectrum, Bad Parenting, Bigotry & Prejudice, Canon Autistic Character, Cliffhangers, Dark Magic, Dark Past, Death Threats, Duelling, F/F, F/M, Family, Fights, Gen, Magic, Magical Pregnancy, Magical Realism, Magical Tattoos, Meeting the Parents, Muggle/Wizard Relations, Past Violence, Pop Culture, Summer Solstice, Threats of Violence, Traditions, Unhealthy Relationships, Weddings, Winter Solstice, Witchcraft, Witches, Wizard of Oz References, Wizarding Traditions, Wizards
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2019-04-17 14:46:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14191311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wearethewitches/pseuds/wearethewitches
Summary: "It will," Julie says, as stubborn as ever, "and when it does, you'll take my name. In the ordinary world, we'll be Julie and Hecate Hubble and in the magical one, Julie and Hecate Hardbroom."Hecate sighs. "As you wish.""That was a Princess Bride reference," Julie kisses her again, "Does that make me Princess Buttercup?"-Hecate and Julie begin their lives together as a married couple, but darkness looms overhead as Hecate's father, Mordred, makes a reappearance into Hecate's life.





	the more she sings cuckoo, cuckoo

Ada is the one who casts the binding spell, their officiant this Beltane afternoon; but she is not alone.

In the forest, under the green canopy, surrounded by forest trees that have soaked in the magic of school girls that have roamed the forests surrounding the Academy for centuries, Ada Cackle makes a circle. In that circle, she is joined by two Hubble women, two Crow witches, Davina Bat and three Hardbroom's – Constance Hardbroom, Hecate's mother; Artemis Hardbroom, Hecate's sister and Artemis' son and Hecate's nephew, the young wizard Ares, who lisps out the spell from behind his two missing front teeth.

Knees to the earth, separated by only her silver dress and the ceremonial Cloak Julie had removed from her shoulders, Hecate holds Julie's hands, their foreheads laying against each other's. Golden magic, powerful and lovely, comes from nothing in the circle around them, revolving around them before pulling _inwards_ , settling into the fabric binding their right arms together from wrist to elbow. The fabric glows and Julie lets out a happy gasp as it sinks into their skin, disappearing from sight, leaving only a faint circle around their wrists.

"Rise, wives in magic, Hecate Hardbroom and Julie Hubble," Ada says, before bowing with her hand to her forehead, breaking the circle. "Well met and blessings upon you in your life together."

"Well met and blessings upon you," copy the rest of their guests, before Julie kisses Hecate sweetly, pulling her to a stand.

"Hello, wifey," Julie says, grinning, teary-eyed. Hecate finds that she's already crying, happy. Julie wipes her tears away, kissing her again before Ruth Hubble drags them both into a happy embrace.

"Our girls," the oldest Hubble says fondly, giving each a quick peck on the cheek, "I'm so glad to welcome you to the family, Hecate."

Blushing, Hecate simply nods her head, looking to her own mother. Constance doesn't offer a hug like Ruth does, however, she does reach up to her neck, unclipping her long watch on its silver chain. Hecate's eyes widen.

"Mother!" She startles, Amelia gasping, hand going to her heart.

"Oh, such an _honour_ , Hecate..."

Hecate's lip trembles and she finds herself crying a little more as her mother silently steps over to her, giving her their family watch. Constance clips the silver around her neck, briefly brushing a hand over her cheek before turning to Julie, hesitating briefly before repeating the same action. Julie raises her own hand, clutching Constance's for a moment before letting go, experienced in the infamous Hardbroom selectiveness in touch.

"Well met, Julie Hardbroom," Constance says quietly, Moe snickering a little.

Ruth, thankfully, whacks her younger daughter on the arm as a reminder of propriety. "Mariam Hubble, you be quiet on Julie's special day!"

"Aunt Julie?" Ares tugs on Julie's pale blue dress, pressing up against her. "May I use your Cloak for when I get married, if you don't have a baby?"

"Ares," Constance starts, chastising her grandson, "that is an inappropriate question and truly, your family Cloak would be the proper one."

"I like blue, though," Ares whines, Hecate taking the moment to fetch both Cloaks from the ground, Julie helpfully picking up the five year old and swinging him onto her hip, moving out of the way. Hecate grasps the velvet fabrics tightly, draping them over her arms – bare, for once, her sleeveless dress showing off her glowing tattoos, the Aramaic long having imbued itself with her magic. With how much magic that had been generated by their loved ones in the ceremony, Hecate isn't surprised that both her tattoos and the Hardbroom Cloak are letting off soft golden wisps of magic.

"That's beautiful," Julie says, eyes drifting to her own family Cloak, a surprising heirloom that Hecate was still confused over after a year into planning this day, their wedding. The pale blue fabric with its silver embroidery is a piece of art that holds the Hubble family name in Dark Days-runes, from the beginning of magical civilisation. Even now, Hecate can feel the magic that the ceremony awoke in it, probably the first bonding ceremony it had been used in for centuries.

"A beautiful mystery," Artemis says. "Perhaps you come from a wizarding family, new sister of mine."

"I will look into it," Constance finishes the conversation. "Long life to you, Hecate, Julie." Then, Constance transfers away, Miss Bat taking the chance to offer her congratulations to them both.

"Thank-you, Davina," Hecate takes her offered hand, squeezing it gently before Ada joins them.

"I'm happy for you, my friend. Thank-you for inviting me today and it was a true honour to officiate," and then, Hecate and Ada embrace each other because Hecate doesn't know what she might have done without having Ada as a friend over the past decade. "You looked beautiful and the magic..."

"Thank _you_ ," Hecate steps back, remembering the first time they met, when Ada was less grey-haired, but still the same as she is now – _good_ and warm, with a love of pink jumpers and teaching magic to the girls at the Academy. "Everything you've been to me; my friend, my confident...I hope you will still be that to me in the next chapter of my life and the next, too, Ada."

Ada smiles, squeezing Hecate's hand. "Always, Hecate. Long life to you, Hecate – long life to you, Julie. To you both." She nods to Julie before letting go of Hecate, transferring away. Hecate lets out a sigh, adjusting her grip on the Cloaks as she turns back to Julie, the Hubble's and her sister and nephew.

"Aunt Julie," Ares hand finds her necklace, a pretty little ornament that belonged to her grandmother on her father's side, "can we come and visit you, sometime?"

"If your mum lets you," Julie stage-whispers, looking to Artemis as she whispers to her son, "Do you think I could convince her to let you come over for a sleepover?"

"I want to go on a sleepover!" Ares exclaims, looking over at him mother, who then, of course, looks to Hecate with a raised eyebrow.

"Your wife is a bad influence."

"Is she?" Hecate questions, copying her sister. "I thought that was you."

Artemis' face twists for a moment, anger seeping through before she gives Hecate a warning glare. _Don't bring that up,_ it says, _not now. Don't ruin this, Hecate._

Slightly guilty, Hecate tilts her head in apology. "If you wanted a weekend free, we'd be happy to have him."

"Yes, we would," Julie agrees, hugging the little wizard tightly before setting him down on the ground again.

"Long life to you Aunt Julie, Aunt Hecate!" Ares grins, waving as his mother takes his hand. Artemis offers her own _long life_ , kissing both their cheeks in farewell before transferring home – leaving Julie, Hecate, Moe, Ruth, Susan Crow and Margaret Crow in the clearing.

"Thank-you for inviting us, today, it's an honour," Margaret loops her arm with her daughters. "I know my father would have loved to be here."

"He would have," Julie places a hand on her shoulder, nodding. "I'm glad you could make it in his place, though."

"It's an honour," she repeats. "Long life to you, Hecate and Julie."

"Long life to you, Hecate and Julie," Susan says, before adding, "have a fun honeymoon!"

"Oh, don't worry," Julie's eyes flash, her hand falling from Margaret's shoulder. "We will."

" _Julie,_ " Hecate hisses, embarrassed at her frankness but not surprised. Julie takes her hand, waving to the Crow's as they leave.

"Well, just us, then," Moe says, before taking pictures with her non-magical camera. Julie rolls her eyes but poses with Hecate, copying the poses they did earlier with Artemis and her magical camera in front of trees and in the dappled sunlight. When the photos are done, Moe starts pulling out her French braid, ignoring her mother's telling off.

"It was bugging me the entire time. The pins were all sticking into my scalp-"

"We've still got the little dinner at the hotel," Ruth scolds.

"She can take her hair down, mum, it's alright," Julie says, glancing at Hecate's own loose locks, curled with only one side pinned back, Ruth's borrowed blue sapphire hairpin reflecting the sun. "Do you want to put yours up?"

"If you don't mind," Hecate says, already flicking her wrist. Her magic easily responds to the command, plaiting it into a braid and twirling it up into a bun, using Ruth's hairpin as ornamentation. "To the car, I assume?"

"I call shotgun," Moe states, before Hecate transfers them to the off-beaten path, where Ruth's car awaits them. Julie opens up the boot so Hecate can safely stow their Cloaks into the awaiting chest, waiting till she's out of the way to shut it. But before Hecate can move to join her new family in the car, Julie stops her from moving, hand cradling her face as she kisses her.

"I love you," she says, kissing her again. Hecate holds her spare hand and rests her own second against Julie's hip, thumb pressing into her hip, the thin blue fabric of her dress riding up at the pressure. "I love you so, _so_ much, Hecate."

"And I love you more, Julie Hubble," Hecate says.

"Hardbroom," Julie leans back slightly, so they can see each other. "Julie Hardbroom. We just had a magical bonding ceremony in the middle of the woods. We already talked about this, remember?"

"It's not as if we can get even a _civil partnership_ in the non-magical world, Julie," Hecate sighs, twirling their joined hands slightly. "It hasn't happened yet."

"It will," Julie says, as stubborn as ever, "and when it does, you'll take my name. In the ordinary world, we'll be Julie and Hecate Hubble and in the magical one, Julie and Hecate Hardbroom."

Hecate sighs. "As you wish."

"That was a Princess Bride reference," Julie kisses her again, "Does that make me Princess Buttercup?"

Smiling widely, Hecate kisses her wife once more.

* * *

"Mrs Hardbroom..."

Hecate looks up from her marking to where Julie stands in the doorway, playing with a folded piece of paper. She's still in her scrubs from work, but unlike usual, she doesn't seem tired – just elated and perhaps a little impatient.

"Mrs Hardbroom?" Hecate replies in turn, raising an eyebrow.

Julie wanders forwards, swaying her hips, unfolding the piece of paper. Hecate frowns at the sight of it, seeing the photographs and recognising them, vaguely, from Julie's television programs.

"It worked, Hecate," Julie wriggles her eyebrows. "We'll be meeting a new generation of Hardbroom in January."

"We-" Hecate chokes, her eyes widening, fountain quill falling from her hand. "It worked? It really-"

"Well, this is Baby Hardbroom," Julie wiggles the sonograms, "I got a friend in the maternity wing at the hospital to check on me after I got my blood results back last week. I wanted it to be a surprise."

"You've known for a week?" Hecate questions, not upset. Julie nods, walking closer, coming to sit on Hecate's lap, showing her the pictures up close. Hecate remembers that old daydream – of dark haired girls with Julie's smile – and feels joy welling up inside her, a happiness she associates with Julie and with her nephew, when he was born.

"We're going to be mums, Hecate," Julie says quietly. "I'm going to start working part-time in a few months. To make this work..."

"Our families will help us. Our workloads plus a child – you won't have to give up everything, Julie," Hecate raises a hand to her cheek. "I love you both, very much indeed."

"Ditto," Julie whispers softly, smiling. "Though I think I might love you more, right now, _my_ wife who is the _witchiest_ witch to ever walk the Earth."

"Thank-you for the compliment," Hecate kisses her gently, arm wrapping around her back. "You're far more beautiful than I, though, my Julie."

" _My Julie_ – I like that. My Hecate," she teases.

"Oh, not _pretty Hecate, clever Hecate_ ," the witch smirks, Julie's eyes widening.

"When did Moe tell you I said that? She swore she would never-"

"The first day we met."

"I'll murder her," Julie mutters, kissing her again, giving Hecate the two sonogram pictures. "I've got my own copy, stuck to my locker door at the hospital. Keep them."

"Gladly, darling. I can't wait till they arrive."

"Well, I think _she_ ," Julie grins, "is going to be just like her mum."

Hecate raises an eyebrow, "She?"

"Hubble's always have girls and we always keep our name – it's tradition," Julie winks and Hecate feels like she's falling in love all over again in the space of a moment.

* * *

Constance Hardbroom had always been a firm, steady pillar for Hecate, throughout her life. When she was a child, she extolled manners and control of her magic and as they both had that strong, mental compulsion to follow the rules so as to keep structure, they got on extremely well – they understood each other. Hecate loves her mother dearly.

Less could be said of Hecate's father, Mordred Mothbane.

He would rather have her follow his orders than the Witches Code. A collector of Dark artefacts and dark principles, who Hecate keeps the bare minimum of contact with – which is why it was so surprising to receive a letter from him, inviting Hecate to see him the day before Midsummer.

Morded having separated from her mother many years ago, Hecate made her way to Banestroll Manor rather than the Hardbroom Estate, flying to the gates and raising her eyebrow as they slowly creak open. She transfers straight to the building, not wanting to walk the winding garden path to the front door or see any of her father's gruesome Animal Guardians with their dead eyes and unbeating hearts.

"Your wards need rebuilding," Hecate says as she reappears in the entrance hall. Her father awaits, sitting languidly on the stairs with a cup of tea. "Well met, Father. What did you want?"

"Well met, Hecate." Mordred says, "I heard you bound yourself to another. The banns that were printed called this... _Hubble_ family a lost line of former witches. Your mothers doing, I suppose, trying to preserve the family name."

"She has an ancient family Cloak, so mother was right in seeing to the correct information being released," Hecate replies, playing with her mothers watch as her father blinks once, twice-

"I see. Interesting. I wanted to give you a gift," Morded stands, taking his tea with him. "I've remarried, you see – it wasn't in the banns, before you ask. It's not proper to marry again."

"I see," Hecate says, trying not to show how much that fact shocks her. "Who, may I ask?"

"No, you may not," he replies. "However, I am moving out of this home. I know that Constance is leaving the Estate to Artemis, so she won't be getting it. You didn't put up much of a fuss about that. I would have expected you would. She's the younger sister, after all."

"I don't begrudge Artemis being given Hardbroom Estate – until recently, I had no intention to marry or continue the line," Hecate replies. "The Estate will belong to the Wizarding Hardbroom's, eventually."

"Which is why I'm giving Banestroll Manor to you, permanently. I don't care if you sell it, rename it – the Moth Family conquered the Banestroll's, in any case." Mordred sips his tea, waiting for Hecate's answer. To her embarrassment, it takes her several moments to come up with an answer to his utterly absurd words.

"I already have a home with my wife," Hecate says. _A home that is near Ruth, a home near Julie's place of work, a home I am comfortable raising a child in._ Hardbroom Estate was too large for only two children, growing up and Hecate is much more comfortable raising her daughter with Julie in Julie's flat – or a different flat, if that fit their purposes. But no mansions, no manors. _Something small and comfortable._

"Too bad," Mordred says. "I've made your job easier by removing my collectibles and belongings. An architect has already been in to assess the building – repairs to the infrastructure and ward-stone have been paid for in advance and a decorator will be along, when the repairs are done. They will send the bill to me, though they will be consulting you via posted catalogues, for wallpaper, flooring, furniture and whatnot."

"I don't want the Manor," Hecate says strongly.

"Too bad, Hecate Hardbroom," Mordred says, "Good day to you." He transfers away and Hecate is left with a mess.

 _Typical Father,_ she thinks, before transferring home to prepare Julie for the Lughnasahd celebration.

* * *

"It could be a summer home," Julie offers after Hecate tells her, knees drawn up in front of her as she sips her tea. Hecate sits at their round, wooden dining table, the magical catalogues all laid out in front of her. "If you didn't want to sell it, obviously."

"He didn't mean that," Hecate says, forcing herself to speak. "He wanted me to move in. If I don't, I- I fear what he might do. He expects me to do as I'm told. That first day in the café – I didn't mean that my _parents_ wanted me to be austere, I meant my father. You've met my mother, my sister-"

"And Ares," Julie adds, eyes flickering over to their guest room where he sleeps, the space soon to be their daughter's nursery instead.

"And Ares," Hecate repeats. "You've never met my father. If I have any say in it, you never will. He's dangerous – he's a Dark Wizard. Nothing has ever been proven, but I _know_ he's done things, used magic that breaks the Wizards Code and-"

Hecate stops speaking, remembering when she was a teenager, peering through the crack in a door with Artemis as their father slit the neck of a poor animal, using blood magic- using _necromancy._ Hecate knows that the Animal Guardians are far from willing in the defence of Banestroll Manor, not like they should be. At Hardbroom Estate, the Animal Guardians are at least given a choice, instead of slaughtered and recruited without consent to act as alarms for the Manor's inhabitants against enemies.

"My dad is never around much, too busy with navy stuff," Julie says after a long silence, Hecate tilting her head at her tone. "You _will_ meet him eventually, just not until our baby is born. He always sniffs around when Moe has a boyfriend and before- well, before you and I met, obviously I had my own male partners. He likes the idea of grandchildren."

"Is he...Hubble-like?" Hecate questions, unable to imagine Julie's father from just the old pictures of him and Ruth that she'd seen in Ruth's home. General Nathan Fordham had a close-cut beard and thick eyebrows, hair a dark auburn-brown going grey, even in pictures from forty years ago.

"He likes DC Comics," Julie says, sounding disgusted – as if his choice made up his entire character. Hecate stifles a laugh, listening as Julie sighs and goes on. "He and mum get on. They were never married, but they got on enough to have us and raise us well – he just kind of...drifted away. His work took him overseas a lot when I was younger, before we were born. Anyway, I think he might like you, providing he isn't a homophobic ass. I never found out his opinion on all that."

Her words make Hecate pause. "We have been in a relationship for nearly five years and he isn't aware of your tastes?"

"Hecate, I've met him _once_ since you and I started dating," Julie laughs, shaking her head, "if you think I had the time to have a whole chat about my sexuality, let alone tell him about you, you're wrong. The closest we came to talking about my partner is when Moe stormed in raving about how Jack broke up with her and then Dad was too hyped about breaking his nose for me to say anything more substantial than _goodbye._ "

"I'm sorry," Hecate says, frowning. "My own father – we correspond, at the very least. Pleasantries, birthday congratulations, traditional anniversaries..."

"My dad shows up out of the blue at my mum's café once or twice a decade." Julie sips her tea, looking morose. "My mum knows how to get a hold of him for emergencies, but other than that...at least I get some money every couple of months. Then, I know he hasn't completely forgotten I exist."

"I'm so sorry, star," Hecate sighs, standing up from the table to pad over to where her wife sits, curling up into her side, Morgana joining them both as Julie rests her head on Hecate's shoulder. "I didn't mean to make you upset."

"It wasn't you. Dads are sore points for us both, it seems," the non-magical woman mumbles, closing her eyes. "Don't sell your dads house. We can use it for holidays in the countryside – teach our girl how to fly a broom and experiment without being afraid of destroying the entire building."

"A sound idea," Hecate whispers, wrapping her arms around Julie, one hand coming to rest on her slowly burgeoning stomach. "Our daughter. She'll be beautiful. I hope she looks like you."

"I want her to look like _you_ ," Julie says, sounding wistful. "Imagine if she went to Cackle's Academy and you were still teaching there – she'd probably get all mixed up on whether to call you _Ms_ _Hardbroom_ or _Mum_."

Hecate's breath hitches, a flutter in her stomach as she imagines it. "We'd make it a game," she says, "Ada and the teachers would know – except Gullet, I _hate_ that woman – but the students wouldn't. I'd be extra strict but our daughter would know I didn't mean it, unless she did something wrong or dangerous in my class."

"She'll know not to," Julie reassures, as if their daughter will _know_ not to mess around, that she _won't_ in the far, far future when Hecate is at the front of her classroom, instructing her and her fellow first years in the art of potion-making. The complete _certainty_ in Julie's voice gives Hecate hope that those thoughts will be a reality one day.

_One day._

* * *

Moe called it a 'bonding experience'. Hecate, aware that if anyone respectable could see her right now, her reputation would be ruined, grimaces as the artist finishes the frankly _ludicrous_ tattoo on her thigh. Moe lays beside her, snoring softly as her own tattoo-artist does the finishing touches to the cartoon witches hat, the green smoke billowing out around it causing Hecate to roll her eyes.

"It's not that bad, to be fair," her artist says, sounding amused. "A little less complicated than the other art you've had done here over the past couple of years..."

"It is a _smiling moon,_ " Hecate enunciates her words, twisting her neck to look at it. It isn't _that_ bad – actually, it is superbly done, the crescent moon's eye closed in a facsimile of slumber, its grey lip pulled up in a faintly happy smile – not that Hecate would expect anything less from this tattoo parlour.

The Aramaic spells on her arms were the first done by this specific artist, followed by other runes and sigils Hecate designed in her free time, letting her artist argue with placement – the largest of her tattoos being the span of Egyptian Hieroglyphs running up her side.

"Still, it's cute," the artist says, wrapping her up before she stands. "Though, I don't know how your sister can fall asleep under the needle."

"Moe is weird," Hecate says, echoing Julie. The artist working on Moe thankfully pokes her awake after cling-filming her leg, making the woman wake with a start. "We're done."

"Really?" Moe peers at her thigh, grinning. "Awesome. Now I've got something to both, a: remember you by, Hecate and b: pay homage to L. Franky boy."

"L. Frank Baum," Hecate corrects, familiar with the writer of _The Wizard of Oz._ After seeing the movie at Moe's insistence, she had gotten a hold of the paperback form and enjoyed it, despite the inaccurate portrayal of magic and witches in general.

"L. Franky boy," Moe insists, tugging on her jeans as Hecate rearranges her long skirt – something she's still undecided on as it was a present from Ruth, who thought Hecate might enjoy the almost invisible geometric patterns sewn into the fabric, the witch already having made her opinion clear on bright colours. "Let's see yours, before you hide it away."

"Do I have to?" Hecate questions, tired.

"Yep," Moe says, crouching down beside her in what would have been a strange way, had Hecate not already started to tug her skirt up again, showing. "Aww, it's _cute._ Julie's going to love it."

"She loves all my tattoos," Hecate's lip twitches, "this one, I think she'll laugh at."

"You're letting loose," Moe sighs happily, standing straight and offering her arm – remembering not to just grab Hecate. Linking arms with her sister-in-law, Hecate lets her lead them both to the front room to pay, getting the usual speech about keeping their tattoos clean as they heal.

Walking out into the dark afterwards, Hecate enjoys the unusual silence of Moe, who walks slower than she does in her heels. The city is quiet and there's only one other person in the high street, leaning up against the inert fountain in front of the town hall. As the pair approach, Hecate has the strangest feeling she knows the person and frowns, peering at them from afar.

"What is it?" Moe mumbles to her, clutching her arm. No sooner does she ask, Hecate stops them from walking any further, trapped under a streetlight. She stares across the high street, the figure becoming clear as they begin walking in their direction. "Hecate, I think we should go-"

"I agree," Hecate says, wanting to transfer away immediately, but knowing that in such a public place, with its newly-installed security cameras, that would be an _extremely_ bad idea. Instead, she backs up, pushing Moe back towards the parlour, keeping her eyes locked on the figure as they step into the ray of a streetlight – as Mordred, her father, steps into sight.

_He would never come into a non-magical city for a good reason._

"Run, Mariam," Hecate hisses. "Tell Julie that it's my father. Don't come after me – I'll find you all, when we're done talking. If I die...if I die, Julie will know."

A terrified expression twists into existence on Moe's face, "Die?"

"If, not when," Hecate pushes her away, watching her run into a side-street before feeling her father's hand wrap around her shoulder. The transfer spell he uses – in non-magical view, in front of _cameras_ , endangering their entire world – takes them to Banestroll Manor's grounds, in the knee-tall meadow full of dying grasses and autumn flowers that Hecate has good memories in.

All of a sudden, instead of afraid of her father, she is _angry_ – angry that he is going to mar the childhood fun that she and Artemis had in these meadows. They picnicked and collected potion ingredients here; they had their _first Midsummer bonfire_ here, getting drunk on elf wine and the magic of their Circle Chant. Hecate even remembers _Pippa_ being here, kissing in the dying sunlight and sleeping together under the stars, before she was shipped off to Amulet's Academy for her last year by her parents who wanted to get _that ghastly, Dark influence Hecate_ _Hardbroom_ away from their daughter.

Hecate rips her shoulder out of Mordred's hand, inwardly, haughtily proud that she is so strong – that her magic is so much more _powerful_ than her fathers; that she can transfer multiple people without even touching them.

"You shame me, Hecate," he says, voice grave and full of that familiar anger that Hecate feels inside herself. "You shame your good name and you shame me, your father."

"I am better off without you," Hecate says.

"Without me, without me..." Abruptly, his hand whips out and Hecate is knocked to the ground, her hands already feeling mud before the pain catches up. Mordred seethes above her, staff in hand suddenly. "You are _nothing_ without me! Was it not _I_ who arranged your apprenticeship under Trivia Broomhead? Was it not _I_ who convinced your mother to let your wretched sister shame her good name by having that bastard boy she _dared_ name after the God of War? Was it not _I who you owe your life to?_ "

"I owe my life to no-one but myself!" Hecate roars. "I have made myself-"

"You owe everything to me!" Mordred shouts, swinging his staff like a weapon, Hecate barely transferring out of the way in time not to be hit. Materialising behind him, Hecate steps back, raising shields to protect herself and summoning magic to her hands. It glows white under her palms, itching and burning to be let loose.

Her father twists, snarling. "You crossed a line when you married a non-magical, Hecate, but I was willing to overlook it – until I heard you were having a daughter. _Progeny_ with a _non-magical,_ Hecate! What if they too, are non-magical? What if this Hubble line is cursed? You would leave the Hardbroom legacy to a _bastard_ wizard who can't even spell his own name?"

"You will say nothing more of my family, Mordred Mothbane," Hecate snaps right back at him. "Why do you even care?"

"Because you are my _daughter_ , my pride and my legacy! I will not have everything I am be left to you and then to a _half-breed!_ "

Understandably, Hecate loses all control, then, throwing spell after spell at her father, using transfer spells to better catch him out. However, Hecate might be more powerful than Mordred – but it was Mordred himself who she inherited her talent from in the first place.

For every spell she casts, there is a defence; for every transfer spell there is a reply which decimates the meadow. Mordred does not tire or expend himself and eventually, Hecate transfers back to where she originally started so as to narrowly avoid a volley of magic Mordred sends at her, hair falling around her face.

"Enough of this," Mordred says after a few, long seconds of silence. "You have till Samhain to fix your mistakes, Hecate, before I fix them for you – your mistakes and the mistakes of Artemis. I will not suffer your wife, your child or any of the family that come with them. If they are not struck from your life completely, young Ares dies."

He disappears and Hecate takes in his words, dropping to her knees.

 _No,_ she thinks, panicking. _No, he wouldn't- he_ ** _wouldn't_** _._

"But he would," Hecate chokes on her own sobs, shoulders shuddering. " _Julie_."

How can she keep them safe from her father? Mordred made sure to cover all his bases – Julie, their baby _and_ the Hubble's wouldn't be safe. _Ares,_ Hecate thinks, a new bloom of hurt aching in her chest, _not Ares, not my nephew._ Hecate never thought her father was this brutal, _this_ Dark.

She buries her face in her hands and cries until she can cry no more. Then, she looks up at the starry sky and thinks. Hecate thinks up plans one moment and discards them the next, forcing herself to name all the constellations and stars she can see so as to keep focus. Multitasking had always been a talent of hers.

"Ursa Major, Ursa Minor, Cepheus-" _how can I keep them safe, how can I keep them safe_ "-Andromeda, Pegasus, Cassiopeia."

Eventually, heartbreakingly, Hecate comes up with a plan.

* * *

No-one quite notices her at first when she appears and Hecate judges the scene in front of her. Julie is pacing, one hand on her swollen stomach and the other grasping Hecate's watch around her neck – usually, Hecate never takes it off, but perhaps she'd had a premonition, because she gave it to Julie on a hunch, before she left that evening, not knowing why.

Ruth is sitting with Moe, who looks queasy and frightened, tear-stricken. Ruth strokes her long blonde hair, speaking in a quiet but strong voice.

"Hecate's a big girl. She's a witch – a strong witch, if Artemis wasn't waffling. She'll be fine."

"But what if she's not, mum?" Julie questions, before Morgana on the countertop meows loudly, causing the pregnant woman to look at her – and then at Hecate, behind her. Julie gasps, immediately making her way around to hug Hecate tightly. " _Hecate_ , you're alright, _god_. We were so worried about you! What happened? Where's your father?"

"Things aren't good, Julie," Hecate whispers, welcoming the hug, arms tightly locked around her. Julie seems to sense something's not right and looks at her face, brow wrinkling as she frowns.

"What happened? What did he say to you?"

"He threatened you; you, our baby, our family and little Ares," Hecate says, Ruth grumbling on the sofa.

"I'll show him what for. Threatening _my_ girls and that cute button of a boy..."

"There's nothing you can do to help, Ruth, only I can fix this," Hecate says, pulling away from Julie's embrace. "The Great Wizard can do nothing without proof – my accusation would do naught. I have until All Hallows Eve to cut off all contact with you all, or he will murder my nephew."

"No!" Julie exclaims, shocked. "You can't do that!"

"I will have to, for your safety," Hecate says, meeting Julie's eyes. "Samhain is only two and a half months away. I'll ward you, raise protections around you all so no magical person currently living can find you."

"But wouldn't that include you?" Moe questions, chin trembling.

"You can't do that, I won't let you do that to us," Julie says, angry. "No, Hecate. Why wouldn't this _Great_ _Wizard_ listen to you? You've _told_ me about your father – he's known publicly as a Dark wizard, it shouldn't be that hard."

"The Great Wizard would never give me the time of day and my father? He has never been successfully charged for Dark magic, no matter the truth of the circumstance." Hecate swallows, before explaining the rest of her plan. "I want to bind him to his word that he won't ever harm you or any of my family ever again. If I defeat him on Samhain in a duel, I can make him swear on all his ancestors."

"But if you won't be able to find us, other than saving Ares, what will it matter?" Julie questions, "If you won't be able to find us, Hecate-"

"I'll be able to find _her_ ," Hecate interrupts, eyes blazing. "Our child. My magic won't allow me to see you or interact with you, but when I see _her_ , I will know. I'll be tying all my wards protecting you three to her and it'll show – my magic is far from weak and when I seek our daughter out, I will remove the wards entirely. I will be able to see her...if not _you_."

"But you still won't see us until she's born," Julie swallows. "Hecate, this is too much. What if you fail to defeat your father?"

"I will not, even if it means calling upon all the witches in my coven to take my place." Hecate grasps Julie's hands. "I won't fail, Julie. I swear on my magic, I will defeat my father."

At her oath, her magic twists and curls outwards around their joined hands, a white light that makes Julie gasp sharply.

"No, you shouldn't have done that, you silly witch!" Julie brings Hecate into a hug sharply. "You stupid, _stupid_ witch."

"What did you do?" Ruth questions.

"I swore on my magic to defeat my father," Hecate says.

"Meaning," Julie translates, crying, "if she loses, her magic will leave her and she'll be as ordinary as we are – except she won't be able to see us any time soon."

"Oh, Hecate," Ruth closes her eyes. "You'd better defeat that bastard of a father of yours, or I'll never forgive you."

"I will," Hecate says, holding Julie as she sobs. "I will."

* * *

_Tuesday Evening, 21 December, 2004_

Mildred is a small baby. _Being premature would do that,_ Julie thinks, running her finger down her small nose. Mildred Hubble has dark brown hair that is almost black, bright pink skin and tiny, tiny wrists – though surprisingly, she does have two little bracelets. Julie can see Hecate's chin and Hecate's forehead – though that's definitely a Hubble nose.

"How long until she appears again, do you think?" Ruth question.

"Who knows," Julie murmurs, yawning, stretching out as much as she can in the hospital bed while Mildred sits in her lap. "We thought she'd be a January baby."

"It's the winter solstice tonight, you know," Ruth points out, "Witches subscribe to those things, remember? Maybe she'll feel it in her bones, like Moe and I did."

"I still don't believe that," Julie laughs a little.

"We did," Ruth shakes her head at Julie's disbelief. "I think you felt it too, when Moe was born."

Julie stops laughing, "What?"

"You'd be better off asking your father, but I heard him telling me, second-hand," Ruth clears her throat. "'You should have seen her, Ruthie' he said, 'Julie was playing around in the waiting room and then she just stopped and came over to me and said her sister was born'. Or something like that, anyway." Ruth points at Mildred. "As soon as she was born, I knew you'd had a girl. I felt it, deep inside. Constance said we were from a magical family – what if she was right? What if it's a witchy thing, to feel it?"

"I don't know, mum," Julie admits.

"Well, I bet you anything that when Millie was born, somewhere, wherever Hecate is," Ruth leans forwards, eyes locked with Julie's, "that she felt that same feeling. She knows, deep down."

"...I hope she does," whispers the ordinary, wife-to-a-witch and new mother, Julie Hubble.

**Author's Note:**

> sorry-not-sorry for the cliffhanger, hehehe...


End file.
